The night before yesterday, I fell asleep with the assistance of Ativan, knowing in my bones that the citizens of the US were about to have their worlds rocked hard-core when they all awoke the next day.

The reverberations of the outcome of that presidential election were immediate and felt around the world, and I didn’t have the strength to do anything other than go to work and keep my head down. Dodging water cooler talk , in order to avoid having to discuss what had happened and having to listen to opposing views on the event.

I did not eat or even drink water for over eight hours, to ensure I would not have to interact with others.

I zombie-walked my way through 11-09-16.

My only communication yesterday was a response via text to my youngest son, my soul-searching, achingly earnest baby…the one who has always, ALWAYS, done the right thing.

Followed the rules, walked on the greens, watched cautiously on the ambers, and preferred to let his bigger, braver brother break path for him his entire life up until now.

He texted me at 8:27 yesterday morning with the following:

And knowing him like I do- those few words said so much to me. He was bewildered.

He was in shock. He was a bit frightened and a whole lot confused.

Because I raised my children colour blind and in a home primarily run by a single mother, his half-awake brain could not even compute all the things that had occurred while he was sleeping.

How the clocks and the years had all been set back.

How the accomplishments and struggles of so many for so long had been neatly cut off at the knees and thrown in a burning, rusty dumpster full of shit and broken dreams.

How a woman who spent her entire LIFE working in public service and primarily focussing her efforts on women and children had been beaten in a democratic process by a misogynistic, xenophobic, racist, ablest, reality-star sideshow barker.

How the conman pulled off the long-con and emerged the winner over the woman who dared to dream there was ever going to be a spot at the big boy table for her.

How hard work and doing the right thing and slogging along on the right path was trumped by a bully with a loud voice and no morals, who has treated women and persons of colour and the disabled and prisoners of war with contempt and disdain.

I have witnessed some atrocities in my life but have never felt so heartsick as I did yesterday, not that the con man won, as I have seen many, many sociopaths rise high over the years.

My heart hurts that there were so many humans in the world that bought into his rhetoric.

My mind struggles in trying to understand how ONE woman could ever cast a vote for that monster, let alone many.

I hold women to so much higher standards than I ever have men, because I know our strengths. I know it is women who run the world, sometimes alone, but often at a man’s side- encouraging, planting small seeds, manipulating, loving, feeding, comforting…but always, always, ALWAYS working to plant those seeds…the seeds of forgiveness, the seeds of love, understanding, caution, consideration for others.

My response to my son was brief, and I prefaced it by saying I had been searching for hours to find even the smallest silver lining, as is my way. Typo intro should be into:

I know my son is struggling to understand and I have nothing to give him this time.

My mother’s favourite response to us when we were growing up and whined that something was not fair, was ” Who ever told you that life was FAIR?”

I hated that response as a child and chose never to respond to my sons in that fashion.

I wanted them to think that if you worked hard, and did the right thing and treated others with kindness and understanding and with respect for diversity, that everyone’s life would be better.

Obviously, I was wrong.

It has always been kill or be killed, survival of the fittest and the louder the voice, the greater the rewards.

History has shown that over and over again.

And money talks…boy does it ever.

Obviously, I’m struggling here and I need a minute to gather my thoughts and get myself back on track. I welcome any and all words of advice from those that are wiser than I am.

But there will be changes for me and they will be long-lasting.

I will be encouraging every young woman and girl I know that despite what we have been shown in the past two days, despite the fact that the nude model,the mail order bride who used her vagina and married rich will be moving into the white house with her con man, the woman who used her power in the right ways is the real winner here.

The one who graciously accepted defeat, and who encouraged so many of us to use our voice, and who supported her very flawed man with poise and understanding for years in the public eye…she’s the winner and the one who will go down in history.

No more will I shut up and sit quietly waiting my turn to express my opinions while a man has his say first and I feel the need to just let him have it to avoid being looked at as an aggressive, mouthy bitch.

No more will I allow anyone within my immediate vicinity to spew a racial slur or even slightly try to tear down or discriminate someone based on their colour, or gender or handicap or sexual preference.

I need to feel in control of my environment or else my PTSD ramps right up and causes me to isolate myself in order to feel safe, but I refuse to allow this dirt that is reality now to shut me up about those values I did my best to instil in my children and which I believe in my heart and soul SHOULD be most important and SHOULD be lived.

So maybe the con man and his deplorable minions won this round, but they won’t win the game.

2 thoughts on “Tired”

I’ve lived through many elections, but never has one made me physically ill until now. And It’s not just gals. My 38-year-old son had an anxiety attack that night. We were from 11:30 to 1:30 a.m. getting him settled down. This may not be over yet… If he really was in contact with the Russians like the news today said, that’s probably an impeachable act.